Week 9

I hate boxes.  Every time Jeremy pulls that rectangular wooden box out, I get the homicidal feeling again.  I was just getting down the steps onto the box when he threw me a twist.  He told me to straddle the box and step up sorta in-an-out-ways.  Visions of my tookus bouncing all over the ground came to my mind again.  But I did it.  I hopped up and down on that box for stopwatch-man knows how long.  Actually, something Cindy exclaimed this past weekend kept me motivated..."You have no flab!"  It was something I felt so good about that those words rang in my ears with every step on that box.  She also uttered some more words in a more threatening, less supportive tone that rang in my head..."I'm going to tell Jeremy you wouldn't do the stairs."  Stairs!  Woman, we were on the sixth floor, the hotel had elevators, and nothing was on fire!
 
All in all, I must be feeling better about myself.  The little Senior Super Woman was there again today running on the treadmill, wearing her lime green and rust polyester pantsuit, and I actually managed a smile and had no assaultive impluses.  Ah, the little things...